SpideyDevil

Opened up

After getting to know the future lawyer for a little over a month now since their fateful meeting in Miss Coppell's apartment, Peter was well aware he was more of the silent, brooding type. His introverted mannerisms were a stark contrast against his hyperactive quirks, but it never bothered the spindly vigilante, even as heavy silence hung in the air after his attempt at lighthearted humor. It didn't surprise him, nor did it dissuade him from trying to mitigate the damage from the evening....emotionally and physically.
Even when Matt did finally acknowledge what he'd said, the forced smile did little to appease Peter. If his heart wasn't in it, then Peter would rather not forcefully beat it out of him.
Especially when the next couple of minutes wouldn't be a very pleasant experience for him.
Instead of running over to the aforementioned doorknob, Peter still decked out in his Spiderman gear, rapidly shot his webs, and the towel sprang right into his gloved hands. Setting it along with the rest of the supplies he needed, he tugged the tight fabric of his gloves off his fingers and scooped the towel, a bottle of rubbing alcohol, and suture kit into his arms.
"I wish I could tell you, but your guess is as good as mine. Maybe he had special armor over his chest that hid his heartbeat," the scientist theorized as he settled the medical supplies over by the sofa and stacked two throw pillows on top of each other "Or maybe he was in some sort of drug-induced state? Some chemicals can have the strangest effects on people. Did you hear about the Florida man who turned into a zombie and ate someone's face in a park?" He patted the pillows, indicating to Matt to prop his leg up and keep the wound elevated once he was done removing the torn clothing. As Matt got himself situated, Peter circled back into the kitchen to scrub his hands clean before he started suturing Matt back together again.
He was certainly no medic, but Nurse May had made sure to teach her boy the essentials so he could make it in this harsh city.
"I can't imagine what he was doing there, though? - Not the zombie man, the ninja. Also spying on the Russians?"
After drying his hands off, Peter returned to kneel by the sofa to start picking off the webs from around Matt's gash.
-
Matt was shaking his head the moment Peter began to offer explanations.
But it wasn't in refute to any of his potential answers- though Matt was sure none of them were correct - it was because his guess was perhaps a tad more experienced in this area.
It made his head spin, or perhaps it was the blood loss, as he pushed himself back to standing and limped his bloodied leg over towards Peter he was rushed with the gravley paranoid rumblings of the man who had taught him every thing he knew, whispering warnings of a war to come.
Matt wasn't so sure how to reasonably present this option to the web clad hero, instead opting to unbuckle the belt and holsters and focus on getting out of the suit, tossing the towel over his couch and pillows to protect them.
Pausing only to limp to the counter and pop a few ibuprofen and Tylenol, washing them down with a swig of whiskey before moving, slower and stiffer with every step, back to Peter.
It was easier to forgo the top and the bottom, going down to his boxers before sinking into the couch and lifting his webbed up leg.
He lay his head back into the arm of the couch for a moment, letting out a small sigh before he spoke again.
"I had not heard about a...zombie. I hope that's hyperbole." He admitted lamely before adding with a soft teasing smirk, a little more genuine.
"Can we not call him a ninja? Please? Like I understand the image and all, but..." he motioned to himself. "Feels a little silly, even as someone who dresses like a devil and a ninja sometimes."
He ran around in combat blacks in his early days (and when he didn't have time to suit up), but it was really just a more casual means on introducing the idea that *ninjas* were not unheard of to him, despite his disbelief.
"And um, they aren't ninjas... at least... not if I am connecting the right dots. I have no clue why the russians had that property, and I didn't get to venture into the basement, but he was behind a locked door... which makes me feel like he was protecting something..." he shook his head slightly, "but... it wouldn't be the first time I have ever heard of such a warrior, one that can hide their heart and breath and footfall, I just thought the man who told me about them was...crazy." He admitted softly.
Matt flinches as Peter begins to pull at the webs, but he bit down tightly on his bottom lip, quieting his discomfort and his insights.
-
Peter half smiled as he finished pulling off the remainder of the webs, twirling them around his fingers before tossing it by his side to properly dispose of later, "Alright," he sighed softly in mock disappointment. "I won't call him a ninja anymore. Even though making the bad guys feel silly is totally my thing," he said, his tone light and playful.
"But to be fair, someone who can mask involuntary sounds is pretty out there. So I don't blame you for not believing they really existed. Or, were lurking behind locked doors for unsuspecting Devils to come by."'
The idea Matt was proposing was indeed crazy. However, at this point in his superhero career, Peter knew that there were plenty of things out there that were far beyond his awareness or current understanding.
"Although I didn't find any information on what's at the facility or what could be possibly down there worth guarding, I did come across some other intel that could be of interest."
Leaning back on his haunches, Peter picked up the bottle of rubbing alcohol and a long strip of gauze.
"It seems the Russians are playing a game of Monopoly and are buying properties across the city."
With a grimace, he turned back to Matt and popped the lid off the bottle.
"Okay, I'm gonna have to clean the cut. Brace yourself. This is going to sting."
Pouring the alcohol into the gauze to be absorbed, Peter waited for Matt to prepare himself for the unquestionably excruciating sensation that was about to hit him.
Carding his free hand over the sweaty, fiery red strands of hair that clung around Matt's forehead, Peter swept them away from his face as he asked, "Ready?"
With his verbal consent, Peter pressed the alcohol-soaked gauze over the bloody area and worked his way around the gash with firm but quick dabs so Matt would only feel the burning sting for a mere moment in one small spot at a time.
Working diligently, it only took Peter a few seconds to methodically clean the entire wound, and as soon as he was done with the last spot, he immediately pulled the rubbing alcohol away from his skin.
"Done. Done. It's done," he reassured.
The spider's long slim fingers curled around Matt's wrist and gave it a squeeze before bringing his hand to his lips for an apologetic kiss and moving on to the next step..
-
Matt gave a good natured hum at the idea of training one's body to control things they shouldn't be able to, neither of them were really in a place to be disbelievers of such things and yet Matt found the idea fantastical.
But he didn't get further into the details of Stick's madman prophecy Peter had moved on so casually to the information he had obtained from his snooping and it made Matt realize he had entirely forgotten Peter's side of their mission; and that they had agreed to meet outside- Matt was thankful Peter had not held up his end of their plan.
His brow furrowed but before he could think much on the idea of what the Russians could possibly want with the new york real estate market Peter was preparing him for his incoming assault and soothing it away with his nimble fingers through Matt's hair.
He gave a slight nod, a sardonic, tired smile.
"As ready as I am ever going to be." But even saying this, laying his head back again and closing his eyes like he was sinking into a bath, he couldn't help the flinch when the cold sting hit his skin. Though he took it like a champ, squeezing his eyes and gritting his teeth, the only real show of pain in the way his stomach and legs would tense against his attempts to relax.
The wound looked deep enough to be a problem for the law student in the next few days and weeks, and had it been a few inches to the right Matt very well may have bled out through the vital artery along his thigh. Matt had doubts his kevlar would have been thick enough to stop the blade anyway.
All these thoughts were to distract him. When Peter pulled back, he'd find Matt was gripping hard at the cushion, his other hand draped over his stomach before Peter gave it the soft kiss. It shot an electrical heat through Matt's stomach, mapping the length of his spine in comforting tingles.
Matt settled further into the couch, bringing a pillow into his chest and gripping it with one arm as Peter started in on sewing him back together, while his head rested to the side, brown eyes settled on the concentrated face of his boyfriend like he was studying it. Like he could.
He wished he could, it wasn't often he found himself yearning for sight- not that it wasn't easy to miss- but it was a waste of time and he didn't often allow himself to indulge in the thoughts.
Tonight felt like as good a night as any, and as Peter worked his nimble fingers on the ripped thigh Matt's mind went about painting an image of the light hearted scientist, a canvas he repainted more frequently than any other in the last month. 
He flinched now and then, but mostly, he fell silent, leveled his breathing, and let the hand not gripping at the pillow gently trace the webs on Peter's suit.
-
Threading the medical string through the paper thin needle, Peter leaned forwards, and with incredibly steady hands, he punctured the tender skin on one side of the laceration and weaved the string across to the other side with accurate precision. Repeating the motion over to the other side, Peter's long, nimble fingers worked to stitch the skin back together again.
It was evident by the swift but precise nature of his fluid movements the jaded hero was well-practiced and had done this countless times before, however, he still felt the strong necessity to maintain laser focus so as not to leave Matt with an overly itchy or bumpy scar.
Dark brows scrunched together over his hazel hues, and pink lips pressed together into a thin line as Peter concentrated on his sewing.
A comforting warmth bloomed along the slim path of Matt's finger as it gently traced the long winding webs of his suit. Although he was acutely aware of its progress across the dips and curves of his lean muscles, its wandering didn't detract the human mutate from the important work at hand.
When Peter had finished his last suture, he tugged the string and snipped off the extra length at the ends.
Squirting a bit of ointment onto the tips of his fingers, Peter spread the creamy cold salve over the angry red skin.
A tender, kind-hearted smile laced his lips as he said softly, "There you go. All back together again. Although I don't think I can say the same about your suit - that'll be next on the to-do list."
Keeping his hands raised, he leaned back in one last time and locked their lips together in a gentle kiss. It only lasted for a short moment, but there was no mistaking the profound affection and care behind it.
"I'll be right back."
Without using his hands, Peter rose up from out of his crouch and returned to the kitchen. Sticking his hands under the warm running water, he washed off the blood that had soaked his fingers during the sewing process.
"So, I have the addresses of the other properties saved into my phone if we wanted to try them out next and see what they've got hiding over there. But.. if Russians protected this property with silent warriors, I'm assuming they would be at the other locations as well? I mean.. What did this man tell you about them exactly? Are they like some sort of warrior for-hire?"
Returning to Matt's side with clean hands, Peter started applying dressing over the stitches just in case they split prematurely; Matt was an active guy after all and with the kind of rough activities they got into, it wasn't an unlikely probability. At least with the gauze, it wouldn't bleed into his clothing and shoes.
-
Matt dared to smile as the spider patched him up with diligent care, his mind wandering first to a place of anxiety.
He hoped Peter didn't resent him for being weaker than him. He hoped Peter didn't resent patching him up. He scolded himself for not being faster, stronger. He cursed the accident that took his sight. He hoped Peter didn't feel Matt was a burden. He had learned that was the quickest way to be dropped.
But still, he smiled, a soft tender sort of smile that hid a lot of pain because he was happy to be here now - in the loving care of the gentle hearted hero. Whom he told himself could never resent him for things he couldn't control.
But that was the thing about anxiety, about depression, about those pesky intrusive thoughts.
If the hungry hounds could be so easily appeased, would they nip so persistently?
No, not so easily, not by Matt's own reasoning, but they were easily dismissed, like ramshackled puppies, by the soft allaying plunge of Peter's lips.
As he finished up and pushed the conversation of their intel, Matt was forced to reel himself in from some distant thought, the path of which was so obtuse not even he could relay or rewalk it.
He hummed, a soft, thoughtful sound as he rolled his head back to the arm of the sofa.
"That sounds like a good enough plan as any." He sighed and had been about to try and sit up when Peter returned to dress the wound too. He was struck with the kindness like it was a bat in the man's hands.
Or no. No, it wasn't the kindness that was shocking to Matt anymore. It was the simple resonating thought that had passed him so casually until he had doubled back to it, mouth becoming dry in its wake despite the thought never having graced his lips.
I love you, Peter Parker.
It wasn't what he should be thinking about, and he couldn't help but question whether or not he was simply drunk on pain and painkillers. If he was just so lonely and touch starved that anyone doting on him may garner that affection.
If he even deserved such a feeling to be returned to him to begin with.
Matt looked dazed and distracted and had yet to really answer Peter, he managed to shake some of the fog from his head and licked his lips and tried to capture the thread of Peter's inquiry that slipped through his hands.
"Um... well... um. Stick was not ever very specific with me about anything. He always spoke in...condescension and riddles. I guess they could be for hire, but he always made it seem more like a cult or an extremist group or something."
After Peter taped down the gauze, Matt shifted, so he was sitting straight on the couch still looking a little...off kilter.
"Thank you..." he said rather suddenly, an anxious sort of humility lacing his words.
"For coming for me. And for fixing me up...are you heading back out tonight or..."
It wasn't that late, not for them, and Matt could understand Peter wanting to go out to patrol more without him.
"Or did you want to stay?" He tried to make it sound casual, like he wouldn't mind.
-
Hazel eyes peered up at Matt from underneath a curtain of lashes, and when he asked what Pete wanted to do next, they fluttered rapidly like a tiny hummingbird's wings
Taken a little surprised by the question, it hadn't really occurred to the hero what he'd do for the rest of his evening. At least nothing past getting Matt to the safety of his home and patched up - which now that he had done so, he supposed he was free to get back out there on the streets.
Because to be perfectly honest, there was always something to do. Always someone to save, someone who needed help, or needed to be stopped. It was never ending in the City that Never Sleeps, and although he couldn't be everywhere at once, he had a responsibility to keep the city safe. Even if it meant staying late most nights to do so.
"Umm, yeah. Of course. Of course. I- anything, anytime, always," he murmured, his hand wrapping around Matt's good knee and giving it a reassuring squeeze.
Gazing up into the dark, wide pools of umber, Peter felt their unwavering pull, like anchors keeping him from drifting too far.
And he didn't want to drift too far.
Although he had a responsibility to be there for the city, he also had a responsibility to his loved ones who needed him too. Which had honestly been a hard thing for him to balance.
Although he was much better than before, he was still prone to breaking his commitments for one super reason or another. He was often late. And when he did manage to make it to an engagement, it wasn't out of the usual for him to be flighty and leave at the slightest indication of trouble.
But he wanted to be better. Do better. Especially for Matt.
As he debated on what to do, he slowly gathered the medical supplies he'd used to stitch Matt, and he eased up to a stand to bring them back over to the medkit.
Snapping the lid shut, the willowy hero turned around on spot and crossed his arms over his chest.
"I think New York will be alright missing me for one evening. I kinda have more important priorities," Peter said as he slowly stalked forwards until he was so close the heat from his body radiated off of him.
"There are several other people whose job it is to care for this city. But who's gonna be there for Matt Murdock?"
A small smile curled his lips, and he lightly brushed his fingertips over the curve of his chiseled jaw and slowly traced up to his temple.
"Are you hungry? I could try to scavenge for some ingredients and make us something to eat? "
-
Matt found Peter's hesitance to be stomach turning, a nervousness welled in him so fast he felt he was choking on it.
Because he wanted Peter Parker to stay more than anything else in this world, he wanted to hoard his warmth and memorize his contours and taste his spit.
He laid his head back into the couch, tilting it and watching in the ways only he could as Peter put the supplies away.
He counted the mutates' heartbeats like they were numbers on a detonator. Ever a pious and weathered Catholic, he was prepared to take the soft letdown with as much grace, understanding, and pathetically feigned disinterest as he could muster.
He was saved from having to put on the show by Peter's agreement to stay, the soft assertion of Peter's priorities, and where Matthew lay on that list, it was stunning to Matt who lifted his head from where it lay and twisted to turn back to the spider just as his fingers graced the paralegals face, still warm from washing and fresh with the smell of soap attop the lingering copper of his own blood.
Matt's brown eyes fluttered before they shut, and he was leaning into Peter like a cat might.
The soft words didn't need a response. They were meant to be sweet and grounding, but Matt felt bowled over by the reality of them.
Nobody
Nobody would care about Matthew Murdock.
That isn't true. You have Foggy, too.
But for how long if he finds out your secret?
He shook his head slightly, then caught that it could be mistaken as an answer to Peter's last question - a question he didn't care to answer. The painkillers were kicking in full force, and Matt found he wasn't sure how he felt physically anymore, floating and vague.
Just that Peter made him feel vulnerable and fragile, like a child again - before he had lost hope that someone could care about him beyond themselves.
"Oh, Peter."
He was struck next, as he turned his head into Peter's hand, closing his eyes and kissing the delicate skin of his wrist, with the inevitable guilt of knowing that the brilliant young man was choosing him over others. Matt didn't feel deserving.
"You are too good for me." He murmured, his words thick with a sadness that Peter might have a hard time understanding, Matt had a hard time understanding it himself.
He reached up behind him, his finger hooking at the edge of Peter's suit, and he tugged him down so he could kiss him. A bucket of water on an inferno.
"I'm not particularly hungry but...dont let me stop you from finding something for yourself."
The grief that hung on him was growing as he realized how lost he felt at the thought of being in love. It felt selfish, not like Peter was choosing him but like he had tricked him.
Maybe he was wrong. Maybe the part of him that loved this man, maybe the part of him so drawn to him, attracted like a polar magnet, maybe that was his devil. Maybe that was his evil.
To steal away the city's best hero.
-
Detecting the heavy grief that weighed so thickly on Matt's voice, it smothered his words and choked his throat. The sudden sadness felt like a surprise kick in the chest to the well-meaning boyfriend.
Peter's angular face creased, and his brows scrunched over wide doe eyes.
But before he could voice his concern as to why the sudden plunge in emotions, fingers pinched the fabric of his spandex and were tugging him forwards, over the back of the sofa. Leaning down, the brunette's lips were captured by the auburn's in a searing kiss that melted their mouths together. And Peter kissed back, sweeping his lips across Matt's in long, dragging strokes.
However, even when the amorous exchange came to an end, Peter didn't move to raise himself. Although Matt offered his kitchen up to him, all thoughts of food were abandoned for his loved one's sadness; he wasn't sure what had been said or done to provoke it.
All he did know was that he had to make it right.
Instead of straightening up, Peter remained bent over, his long arms wrapping around his boyfriend's broad frame to clasp his hands over the slow swells of his chest, rising and falling.
Pressing a firm kiss to the side of his neck, Peter murmured into the soft, tender skin, just below his jaw, "Do you want to tell me what's the matter?"
He didn't want to push Matt to tell him if he didn't want to, but he at least wanted him to know that he had some support to share his burdens with.
Climbing over the back of the sofa, Peter plopped his lithe figure down on the cushion next to him and tucked his knees underneath him, but never did he let his arms drop from their hold around Matt.
"And for the record, I don't think that's true.. me being too good for you. I've got a laundry list of flaws... I talk too much, I'm late to everything, and uhm you probably don't want to know the current state of my bedroom," he added in a light jest as he nuzzled his nose against the side of Matt's cheek.
-
Peter's hands soothed the heat that simmered just beneath his bare skin just like that first night when Peter had laid a comforting hand on his knee. The rest of the world seemed to melt away.
His own thoughts fell into static and silence as Peter's lips stole them away.
As their kiss pulled apart and Peter leaned into him, Matt's head lolled, allowing him better access to his neck before his question cut through the serenity.
Damn...
He had never been very good at hiding his moods. It was different than lying. Matt was a good liar, superheros and lawyers alike needed to be. But he had little emotional control, driven and overruled often by his heart.
Did he want to tell Peter what was the matter?
No! No, of course not!
Why yes Peter, I just realized I am madly head over heels in love with you and I can never do anything right and ruin everything I touch and cant help but wonder if I am dragging New York city's greatest hero down- best case scenario.
Yeah, that would go over grand...
As Peter climbed over the couch, Matt let out a soft little grunt of nervousness.
He had to find something reasonable to say, but instead, he just turned into Peter, laying against him.
His teasing jokes made a smile lift the devil's lips, mostly because he was always surprised by the hero's persistent humor, and he even chuffed a breath of laughter before falling quiet for a beat.
The suit wasn't comfortable to lay against, but the webbing gave his hands something to delicately trace as his words came out in a rush. It was better not to try and parcel them.
"I... I don't want to let you go, Peter. Ever. And when I think I have hit bedrock, on how much I can care for you, you do something so ridiculously thoughtful, thoughtlessly, toss me a shovel and tell me to dig deeper." He swallowed, the sound audible in the otherwise quiet room.
"And I am scared that even if I don't mess this up and drive you away somehow that I may just be..." he hesitated, realizing the pity parade he was throwing and shaking his head.
"I may just be..." he sighed, unable to find the words that didn't sound silly and sad, deciding to dedicate to them anyway.
"I may just be dragging you down, Peter. Have you ever thought of that? They used to say...about me and my dad..they used to tell people to 'steer clear of those Murdock boys...they have the devil in them.'... Maybe you shouldn't look at me with such rose tinted glasses maybe..."
He had petered into silence, but despite all his words, he had tightened his arms around the spider's waist. Not willing to let him go despite telling him to run clear of the Devil.
-
As the future lawyer's warm weight nestled against the science student's chest and his fingers returned to trace the rubbery patterns of his vigilante suit, Peter rested his chin lightly atop the head of silky russet hair and he pressed his lips together and listened carefully to Matt as he vulnerably poured his heart out.
At first, Peter didn't really understand what seemed to be the cause for concern. Because to him, he didn't see how Matt caring so deeply for him would be a sad thing. Because surely he must know he felt so strongly about him in return?
.... Right?
But as he continued on about his anxieties on their potential future together, or lack thereof, because of him messing up, and the heartbreaking crux of what was bothering him, a deep, all-encompassing dread sank into the pit of Peter's stomach and he understood.
Oh, he understood so well.
As old sentiments he had once held himself were thrown right back in his face, he couldn't help but flinch at the reflection of himself he saw in Matt.
How many times had he had these similar kinds of conversations with Gwen Stacy? The only difference was he had been the one convincing her why they shouldn't actually be together. Because he was dangerous. Because what he did was dangerous. Because he wasn't any good for her. They had taken breaks quite a few times over it.
And although Peter felt he had been somewhat right to be so apprehensive in the horrible tragedy that had followed, it didn't make him any less wrong nor any less hurtful for neglecting Gwen's side.
And now Peter was forced to come face to face with karmic atonement for what he'd done and said when he was too young, too naive to fully comprehend what he was actually doing at the time.
"Oh no, Matt. You can't drive me away. It's not possible." Peter said with a shake of his head, his arms tightening their hold around him so that they were both squeezing each other dearly.
"Rose tinted glasses or not, it wouldn't change my feelings for you. Not one bit."
He clenched his eyes shut and sighed.
"And no, I haven't thought of you dragging me down because quite frankly, you've done the exact opposite. But I get it.. I get why you're telling me this. And I know you've got nothing but good intentions. You're being considerate and protective, and I appreciate that - I really do, but I'm going to have to disagree with the warning."
Peter leaned away, but only ever so slightly, just enough so he could take a good look at Matt's large puppy dog eyes that could melt his heart in an instant.
"My life was a long, endless drag before I met you. And I know it's only been a month, but I already can't imagine going back to that. I don't want to go back to that."
Peppering a soft kiss by his temple, he whispered by Matt's ear,
"So I'll take my chances with the Murdocks."
-
Matt didn't need his head to be buried in Peter's chest to hear his heart, but he prefered the encompassing closeness of him.
The way he felt leaded down by his arms and his gentle knowing words.
It was as if Peter could see right through all his dramatics, sweeping them away with casual candor that made Matthew all the more sure.
damn it damn it damn it
But then what had he expected? Of course, Peter was going to spout some loving and gentle garbage to make Matt sink deeper into his sticky webs.
He nodded a bit, hiding his face when Peter withdrew to look down at him.
But the admittance that Peter wasn't as happy before the Devil rattled some sense into his foggy head.
He was acting childish, and Peter was more than gracious in his soft reassurances.
Slowly, carefully, he raised his head so he could meet the steady gaze of the other hero.
"Of course.. you are right, Peter... I guess I get into my own head too much. I just..." he shook his auburn locks, the longer of which fell into his face.
"This is all so new to me. I want to do right by you, and I want this to work. I guess I am always so weary because I have to hide from so many people..." he hesitated, trying to find the right words,
"I guess I have a bit of a complex now. I am so used to pushing people away.
I don't have to push you, I can be open and honest, and it makes me feel sort of... like I don't know who that is. A completely bare me...I don't know him, so I kind of feel like I am faking something, pretending to be grander than I am."
Matt sighed and shook his head, "I don't... really know what I am saying. I'm... really feeling the pain killers." He admitted as an excuse for his rambling. After all mixing tylonol and ibuprofen gave effects closer to percocets, Matthew felt floaty and tired and sentimental, emotional.
-
As Matt finally tipped his sad, kicked puppy dog face up to greet his boyfriend's tender gaze and his smooth, low voice rumbled sincere confessions that begged for loving reassurances, Peter's brow knitted together and the deepest of frowns pulled at the edges of his peony lips.
Empathetic to his lover's internal plight, Peter felt the familiar straining tug in his chest, as if Matt had taken his heartstrings and pulled them taut like a hunter's bow. Peter was ready to take an arrow across the strings to shoot down any of his worries.
As Matt's ramblings drifted to an end, Peter sighed softly and rubbed his hand up and down the length of his spine.
"Matt... Matty. It's okay," came his husky reply, low and smooth like soft velvet. "I know it's hard to shake those kinds of complexes when they've been so thoroughly embedded into our being for so long they like grew into giant tangle of thorny vines you don't even know where to begin to untangle. I've got my own. I have to deal with-, but hey, they weren't suddenly there in one day, so I don't think they'll be figured out right away either."
His fingers stroked over the long fiery strands that had fallen into Matt's eyes.
"But there's no rush. And there's no rush getting to know who the bare you is."
Craning his neck down, Peter lightly rubbed the tips of their noses together before placing a kiss to it.
"And I don't think, that you, the you inside, would be a devil."
Drawing his knees up around him, the spider's willowy limbs wrapped Matt up as he laid back on the sofa, bringing him down with him to lay atop of him.
"But that might be a lot to figure out for one evening on pain killers."
-
Matt felt guilty as soon as he stopped speaking. He rarely vented outside of a confessional, and the anxiety of it compounded with everything before it tonight. But his discomfort only lasted as long as Peter's sigh.